


Zephyrs

by itsmoonpeaches



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar)-centric, Aang Week 2021, Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Air Nomads (Avatar), Airbending & Airbenders, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Day 1: Laughter, Day 2: Family, Day 3: Avatar State/Cycle, Day 4: Dance, Day 5: Air Temples, Day 6: Grief, Day 7: Love, Families of Choice, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Gyatso has a boyfriend, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Minor Kuzon/Aang, Minor Roku/Ta Min, Minor Violence, Omashu (Avatar), POV Aang (Avatar), Pre-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Pre-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Pre-Canon, Surviving Air Nomads (Avatar), but not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmoonpeaches/pseuds/itsmoonpeaches
Summary: Made for Aang Week 2021.-Aang knows that it is an important year for him, and the excitement that builds in his chest is close to bursting. Seven years old is the age that all Air Nomads are given a rite of passage: they could travel the world on their first trips with minimal supervision.Aang is giddy with excitement at the prospect, for he has not been anywhere outside the Air Temples other than the Earth Kingdom. He decides, after some quick deliberation with his guardian, Monk Gyatso, that his first stop should be in the capital of the Fire Nation. “After all, wouldn’t it be wonderful to see where Avatar Roku grew up?” Gyatso had asked Aang with a grin when they decided. He has a twinkle in his eyes when he says it, and he cannot quite make out what it means.-Or, interconnected snippets and adventures from an alternate universe version of Aang's life that make him who he is. In which his friendships with his friends, Gyatso, and the Air Nomads are explored, and he doesn't run away.
Relationships: Aang & Air Nomads (Avatar), Aang & Bumi & Kuzon (Avatar), Aang & Bumi (Avatar), Aang & Gyatso (Avatar), Aang & Kuzon (Avatar), Aang/Kuzon (Avatar), Bumi & Kuzon (Avatar)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 61





	1. Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> This was made for aangweek's Aang Week 2021 on Tumblr.
> 
> This first story is for the prompt Laughter/Joy. I hope you enjoy this!

Aang knows that it is an important year for him, and the excitement that builds in his chest is close to bursting. Seven years old is the age that all Air Nomads are given a rite of passage: they could travel the world on their first trips with minimal supervision. He now can travel with his friends and explore the far reaches of the unknown. He can bring his flying bison, Appa, and enjoy the skies without limits. Though, Appa is too young to fly long stretches by himself. Aang determines he would make do. He has the others coming with him, and that seems to be enough.

Aang is giddy with excitement at the prospect, for he has not been anywhere outside the Air Temples other than the Earth Kingdom. He decides, after some quick deliberation with his guardian, Monk Gyatso, that his first stop should be in the capital of the Fire Nation. “After all, wouldn’t it be wonderful to see where Avatar Roku grew up?” Gyatso had asked Aang with a grin when they decided. He has a twinkle in his eyes when he says it, and he cannot quite make out what it means.

He flies from the Southern Air Temple at the beginning of summer when the solstice has just passed and there is a luster of spirituality in the air that both calms and energizes his people. There is no better time to see the world than right after the celebration of the spirits, he knows. Nature, as it is, is meant to be seen and to be shared. That is what Gyatso tells him more often than not. He is told again that he should be open to cultural differences, to not act shocked when he sees something he may not agree with.

Aang knows what some of this means, for he has seen the small villages in the Earth Kingdom as he has passed through them before. He met one of his friends, Bumi, in a city there called Omashu just a year before while Gyatso was on a diplomatic trip that he brought Aang on. Their lively, emerald clothing has always fascinated him, and he enjoys the scent of foreign spices he has wanted to try.

He wonders if this is how the Fire Nation will be like when he and his friends arrive…full of life and people.

There is a group of about ten children, and he is among the youngest. Only one other has just reached his seventh birthday. Though, Aang is a little put off by the fact that had to wait almost a year to be permitted to travel this far. His seventh year was reached the previous autumn and the autumn that will come after this summer will be his eighth.

It is no matter, though. Aang wants to enjoy what he can.

He is surrounded by a gaggle of flying bison, and he rides on a rather large one belonging to an older monk—Afiko—that has come to chaperone them. He rides with four other children, the others with Gyatso, and one with his own bison that has grown big enough.

Gyatso rides alongside them on his own, and Appa flies with the younger calves behind them. They are learning to endure long distances, but they are yet too small to hold a person up in the air alone with them.

They have two adults that have come to look after them, and even the thought of not having to be watched at every interval of the day is thrilling enough that Aang almost forgets to peek over the saddle.

“Wow! It’s so weird!” shouts a lively boy named Dote who is one-year Aang’s senior. His face is wide, and his smile wider. For some reason, Dote has a particularly shiny bald head that looks as if he rubs it with a cloth every morning. He finds this funny because all of them have bald heads and none of them appear quite as aggressive on the eyes in the sunlight.

“Now, now, Dote,” says Monk Afiko from the front. “We cannot judge something by sight alone, especially things we are unfamiliar with.” His deft hands are twisted through the reins that are tied to the curled horns of his bison.

Aang thinks he is a nice man. Afiko likes to give out powered sweets to the children some days and teaches the most entertaining lessons about Air Nomad history and architecture. He is paler than Gyatso and has a long, sharp, and anchor-shaped goatee that reaches just to the top of his chest.

“But the whole city’s in a crater!” exclaims Dote, waving his hands like an over enthusiastic windmill.

“Yes, that’s called a caldera. The Fire Nation capital is built in the center of a dormant volcano. It is very safe, and if I might add, very beautiful.”

Aang finally looks down. He feels his eyes widen into saucers. What he sees is something out of a story. The city is round and grand. The roofs are crimson tiled with brilliant gold trimmings. There are crowds milling about, and a zig-zag pathway that leads to the harbor where dozens of ships from all over the world are docked.

He spots even blue sails from the Water Tribe and is fascinated instead of disgusted by the lines of animal skin hanging on the hulls. The monks teach them about the value of all life, including those of the flora and fauna, but he knows that rest of the world utilizes animals for food even though the Air Nomads do not. He ponders where the beasts had been before.

There is a space for them near the harbor for them to land. It is a courtyard of cobbled stone surrounded by merchants and greeters. The bison touch the ground, and they are bowed to instantly. The people clad in Fire Nation colors are humbled by them and ask them for blessings, for guidance. It confuses Aang, but he watches as Gyatso and Afiko take it in stride.

“Air Nomads!” a young girl whispers loudly to someone who seems to be her mother. “Kazuko said at school the other day that they’re good luck!”

Beyond the crowd he sees a peculiar tree he has never seen before. He is drawn to it because of the bright red berries on its branches that look like tiny jewels. Appa nudges him in the side, his large wet nose a surprise. Aang giggles and pats him there. “Don’t worry boy,” he tells his best friend, “I’ll bring you back some!”

Heart beating fast with anticipation, Aang leaves the rest of his friends to observe the tree. It stands in a narrow alley in between buildings. Patches of swaying grass surround it. It has a trunk that is not too wide. Perhaps only the width of something his arms can go around perfectly. Its leaves are teardrops, thin and pointed at the ends. They are the kind of green that Aang only sees in paintings on the temple walls, the kind that is verdant to the point of dreamy imagination. Small white flowers pepper some of the branches, and all over are the ruby berries he wants.

A diminutive gray bird pecks at the berries that have fallen on the ground, gulping them with ease and a shiver of delight. Aang beams when he sees this, knowing now that they are edible.

He has an empty pouch he carries with him that he usually fills with chestnuts, but now that it is empty after his long journey, he is eager to fill it up with snacks again.

He reaches for a few and marvels at the skin. They are smaller than the coins in his money purse. He feels how rubbery the skin feels and decides to squeeze the juices into his mouth through the circular opening at the top. He is beyond pleased with the sweet, pleasant flavor. He picks a few more.

There is a _thud_ behind him, and he is blown off his feet. He is on his back on the ground, Appa’s great black eyes staring down at him and licking his face and then the pouch he had dropped.

“I’ve never seen a thing like that before!” a trilling voice exclaims with a laugh.

Aang blinks. He bends a breeze from his hands so that he is standing and facing the strange boy that appears before him from behind a bush.

“Wow, you’re an airbender!” adds the boy. He is shorter than Aang by a centimeter. He has black hair tied into a messy topknot and has tanned skin. His eyes are light hazel in color with just a hint of gold. He is more muscular than Aang, even for a child, and seems to be around the same age. His tunic is sleeveless and is a dark red edged with bronze.

Aang coughs, shifting from one foot to another. “Sorry!” he apologizes with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t know anyone was here. Is this your tree?”

The boy shakes his head, then he bows with an open palm and a fist pressed together. “Name’s Kuzon!” he replies. He shrugs and remarks, “Nah, this is just everyone’s strawberry tree. The kids like to pick the berries every few days, see?”

“Strawberry tree?”

Kuzon nods. “That’s what it’s called! They taste so good, right?” he asks. He moves from one topic to another without breathing in between. He gestures to Appa who is still trying to eat Aang’s whole pouch. “What’s that creature?”

Aang glances to Appa, then back to Kuzon, eyebrow raised. “That’s Appa, my flying bison!” he shares. He is suddenly excited to give this piece of information to him. “He likes berries.”

Appa bounces at his name, and goes up to the two of them, only to sneeze. They both scream when they are covered in bottle green snot and some of the leaves fall on them.

Aang and Kuzon look at each other for a long moment, and afterward, they start laughing.

“Don’t worry!” Aang reassures him. “It’ll wash out!”

Aang helps him wipe off, and Kuzon grumbles for a while about how his older sister and father will chastise him for getting so dirty again.

“I’m Aang, by the way. I’m from the Southern Air Temple,” he supplies. “Sorry about Appa.”

Kuzon chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, this can’t be worse than the time I fell into hippo cow poop!”

Aang stares at him, standing straight. “How did you do that?” he asks, stunned.

“Oh, I was trying to tip them over while they were sleeping!”

They start laughing again, and Kuzon, with the broadest grin on his face, offers to help him pick berries for Appa.

Aang blows air in Kuzon’s hair to try to coax out the rest of the snot, and Kuzon pets Appa on his head. They trade stories and tales, happy to find in each other another person to spend some time with. Kuzon shares his bucket of berries with Aang, and Aang lets Kuzon watch Appa fly for a moment before telling him that he wants to play again tomorrow. He says he will be in the Fire Nation for a week. It would be fun, Aang thinks, to explore a new place with a new friend.

There is nothing quite like bonding over food and the prospect of having an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:  
> -A strawberry tree is the English name for aratilis which is a red berry found in some tropical areas including Southeast Asia. Aratilis is the name the berries are given in some parts of the Philippines.


	2. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang returns from visiting the Earth Kingdom city of Omashu on a spring evening. There are rosy pink cherry blossom petals still stuck in odd places on Appa’s fur and in the folds of his belongings that he had latched onto the back of the saddle.
> 
> He smiles fondly at the memory of the time he spent with his friend, Bumi. He had been shown around the sewer vents of the city—a tour that he was not expecting in the least—and learned of the many secret passageways that one could get into in order to sneak in. Not that Aang wants to sneak into Omashu seeing how they had been decidedly stinky for two days straight after wading through the reeking waters, but it was a way to escape the caravan of poachers that had been chasing them after they saved a few moose lion cubs.
> 
> It was also, as Bumi often says, “A way to think of the possibilities.” By ‘possibilities’ Aang supposes his friend means ‘mischief’. He aspires to be on the level of fun that Bumi is, or rather he wishes to have a complete lack of inhibition.
> 
> -
> 
> Or, Aang stands out a little too much during an airbending lesson, and not all the boys are happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made for the prompt Family/Gyatso.

Aang returns from visiting the Earth Kingdom city of Omashu on a spring evening. There are rosy pink cherry blossom petals still stuck in odd places on Appa’s fur and in the folds of his belongings that he had latched onto the back of the saddle.

He smiles fondly at the memory of the time he spent with his friend, Bumi. He had been shown around the sewer vents of the city—a tour that he was not expecting in the least—and learned of the many secret passageways that one could get into in order to sneak in. Not that Aang _wants_ to sneak into Omashu seeing how they had been decidedly stinky for two days straight after wading through the reeking waters, but it was a way to escape the caravan of poachers that had been chasing them after they saved a few moose lion cubs.

It was also, as Bumi often says, “A way to think of the possibilities.” By ‘possibilities’ Aang supposes his friend means ‘mischief’. He aspires to be on the level of fun that Bumi is, or rather he wishes to have a complete lack of inhibition.

He breathes a puff of air on his clothes to blow off a petal that stuck to his collar. It flutters to the paved ground, rocking back and forth like a boat. He leads Appa to the stables where he struggles to fork some hay into a pile.

Aang himself is small. He is only ten, but the monks always teach he and his peers to take care of their bison companions well. They are supposed to be companions for life. Sister Iio from the Eastern Air Temple had reminded them of the fact when Appa had chosen him a handful of years ago.

Eventually, Aang gives up on the manual labor and simply bends another draft of air until the pile is large enough for his flying friend.

“There you go, buddy,” he says as he brushes Appa’s fur away from his eyes. “Eat up and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Before he leaves, he makes sure that the trough is full of fresh water. When he is satisfied, he makes his way out of the stall and up the spiral staircase that leads to the dormitories.

He is tired and it is getting late. He washes up as soon as he is able, splashing clean water on his face and scrubbing the dirt out of his eyes. The other boys greet him, and his roommate lifts a hand in acknowledgement from his cot. His eyelids are already drooping, and Aang feels bad for disturbing him.

“Sorry Dote,” says Aang in a whisper. “I won’t be too loud.”

He receives a grumble in response, and he chuckles when soon after Dote is snoring in that obnoxious way of his.

Aang wants to say goodnight to Gyatso, but he sees from across the hall that his door is closed and that no candlelight streams from the crack below. He sighs, but he knows he will see his guardian in the morning. He always does.

When his head hits the pillow, he falls asleep easily. He has a long day ahead of him because they are supposed to be learning a new tier of airbending for the day. There are thirty-six in total, and his cohort is learning to master tiers ten through twelve. He is excited, and ultimately that puts him to sleep. He wants to learn something new. Besides the spark of travel and seeing a new destination, he loves his native element with all his heart.

He wakes refreshed and ready, just minutes before Dote does. Dote complains about how Aang always seems to be awake before him, even when he has been travelling or doing something far more strenuous than Dote had been for a day.

They get ready together, shaving their heads of any stubble that had grown out through the night. It is important that they stay completely bald, for the monks tell them that it is easier to feel the ever-changing currents of air as they moved. Aang finds that they are right. Though shaving is a choice and rarely does an airbender choose not to maintain their lack of hair, he finds there is merit to it. He remembers once he tried to grow out his hair and it felt so _wrong._ He could not feel the soothing breeze as he could now.

He wonders how the female airbenders do it. They often only leave the front of their scalps free of hair, but many seem to enjoy having long hairstyles at the back. He has seen a few completely shaven, and he finds them so uniquely beautiful among the sisters at the Eastern and Western Temples. He thinks they are more in tune with the air than he is.

“We’re learning from Monk Tashi today!” exclaims Dote as they leave their quarters. “I heard from Yaden that he’s a scary teacher.”

“Isn’t he the one without any teeth?” Aang whispers conspiratorially. “With the super bushy eyebrows and the funny beard that sticks out?”

Dote laughs and replies, “Yeah, that’s the one!”

They arrive at the pavilion where a group of a dozen or so of them gather. The ages of the boys range from Aang’s own to thirteen. They overlook a group of mountains that is shrouded in mist, and the early morning sun peeks out from just behind it, gleaming a muted yellow.

Indeed, it is the monk with no teeth that shows up. He is waiting for them. He starts the class as soon as the gong tolls the time.

“Oh, this is going to be so _easy,”_ says Yaden with enthusiasm in the middle. He is the eldest of their group, and the tallest. He is lankier than all of them, and his voice cracks into a higher pitch at inopportune times.

“Today, we are beginning our focus on air funnels,” states Tashi. He is hunched over and wrinkled. Much older than Gyatso. His mastery tattoos, the traditional blue arrows that follow chi paths, are dotted with age spots. “Follow my stance.”

The boys around Aang scramble to move the same way Monk Tashi shows them. Even though he starts them small and tells them to create a funnel in the palm of their hands, there is apparently a lot of concentration involved that most do not yet understand in his cohort.

Aang has always been gifted in airbending, but for some reason the more difficult a tier or maneuver, the more naturally it comes to him. It only takes a few minutes for Aang to be the first one to produce a funnel in his hands. Many of the boys gape at the feat, but Tashi seems pleased.

He nods, seemingly unsurprised. “Very good, Aang,” he says in front of him. “Come to the front and demonstrate.”

Aang does as he is told. He sees Yaden is having the most difficult time. His voice cracks now as he voices his frustration.

They start to move onto funneling air so that it encompasses both their hands. Yaden is still stuck on making one in this single palm.

Aang notices that Yaden’s stance is too wide. He moves away from the front and walks up to him. Aang suggests without thinking that he should narrow it. “Maybe if you bring your hands closer to your center?” he recommends, the hesitation evident in the way he speaks. He is not used to giving out pointers, but he feels that here it might be a good thing.

There is a moment of silence before Yaden’s gray-blue eyes flash towards him. “We can’t all be as good as you,” he growls, voice cracking in that awkward way as he responds. “You’re always the best at everything. I should be teaching _you.”_

Aang is taken aback without knowing why. He is hurt when the angry stare does not burn away, and instead seems to seethe into his skin like a marring brand.

After the lesson, he cannot help but feel like he is not wanted. Yaden does not apologize and does everything in his power to avoid him.

Before Dote or anyone else can ask where he is going, Aang is running toward the vegetable gardens. He wants to be alone. He wants to wallow. He does not understand why he is so sad, only that something he did must have been wrong.

When he reaches the patch where they grow cabbages, he plops himself down onto the soft soil. He ignores the sun that beats down on him, and the lack of a cool breeze. He sits there and hopes that he his forgotten or maybe even baked into the earth where no one can be upset with him.

Footfalls alert him that he is not alone and he dreads that maybe it is Yaden.

There is barely movement, but he feels a gentle hand land on his upper back. He turns to see the kind gaze of Gyatso. His neatly trimmed white mustache dangles just below his sagging chin. His silvery eyes have wrinkles at the corners, and Aang remembers that Gyatso knows how to make him smile.

“You only come here to sulk, young one,” Gyatso says. He sits next to him with crossed legs. His auburn robes crease over his lap. “What is wrong?”

Aang lowers his eyes. At first, he does not know what to say, but it is the way that Gyatso nods towards him that tells him that this is a safe space to talk.

“One of the boys was angry at me during the air funnel lesson today,” he starts. “I don’t know…I got it first and Monk Tashi told me that I could help show them. I saw someone wasn’t getting it and…well…that person got mad…”

Gyatso frowns. He brings himself closer to him, mindful of the cabbages that poke through the ground. He holds onto both of Aang’s hands and smiles. “You are talented,” he responds, “and sometimes someone might not be happy that you are.”

Aang exhales, making himself smaller. He feels Gyatso’s hands tighten their hold. “But why not?” he asks. He feels sadder all of a sudden. “I thought we should praise everyone.”

“Yes, we should celebrate success,” agrees Gyatso, “but that does not stop some others from wanting success for themselves too when they feel they have had none.”

“That’s confusing.”

“Ah, yes, but jealousy often is.”

They look at each other for a long moment. Gyatso has an affectionate expression on his face that makes butterflies flutter in his belly. He knows the mood well. It is the warmth he only feels with Gyatso.

“Come here,” Gyatso speaks, and he embraces Aang. “You did nothing wrong, and that is what you should know. You were just being yourself and there is nothing wrong with that.”

“Really?” Aang asks, his face pushed up against his guardian’s shoulder. He is sure the question is muffled.

“Really,” affirms Gyatso.

They do not break apart until Aang does so himself. He looks at the man in front of him, the man that is his family. He knows that if he can trust anyone to make him feel accepted, it is Gyatso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some kudos and/or a comment down below if you enjoyed it :)


	3. Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang lifts his head, and it is as if he is in someone else’s body. He is taller. He can only tell because the ground seems further away. The rocks that are part of the dunes are nearer to his height. He stands confident, upright. His feet are still bare in the sands. The waters brush over his toes, his skin. His hand is gliding through the waves on the shoreline until he stands up straight again.
> 
> “What did you want to ask me, Roku?” a voice comes from his right. 
> 
> -
> 
> Or, when visiting Kuzon, Aang sees visions he can't explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made for the prompt Avatar State/Cycle.

Aang is walking along the beach when it happens. A pounding in his head, throbbing like the beat of a set of drums. He hears it as his bare feet sink into the warm sands. Kuzon is a few steps behind him, shifting through the grains with his hands as he looks for empty shells to bring home. He does not seem to notice Aang’s plight.

The memory of saving a dragon egg from poachers with his friend verges on his mind, very much an escapade that was like the one he had with Bumi all those years ago. He is sure that Bumi would have loved it. The mother dragon had left her nest, and he and Kuzon needed to pretend that she had returned so that the men would run away. They needed a spout of flame big enough for it to be convincing dragon fire.

The sensation of amplifying Kuzon’s firebending with his airbending was a thrilling feeling he had not expected to feel so strongly about. After, he realizes that something in him had awoken. Just mere hours later, he finds himself in this position. Staring out into the sunset, wondering why there are flashes of _something_ in his mind.

Like he knows the feeling of fire playing across his fingertips, knows the flickers of it as it pirouettes from palm to palm as he controls the flames.

He shakes his head, intent on the water lapping on the shore. But then there is another strange feeling. For some reason, even the water is different. It is not as if he has not touched water before, but this feels cool and pliant. As if the sea is calling to him.

His headache grows, and his eyes squint shut. When he opens them again, he is on the same coast on the island to the immediate west of the capital of the Fire Nation. Something changes, and he does not quite know what.

Aang lifts his head, and it is as if he is in someone else’s body. He is taller. He can only tell because the ground seems further away. The rocks that are part of the dunes are nearer to his height. He stands confident, upright. His feet are still bare in the sands. The waters brush over his toes, his skin. His hand is gliding through the waves on the shoreline until he stands up straight again.

“What did you want to ask me, Roku?” a voice comes from his right. When he turns, he sees a graceful woman with round gray eyes and a kind-looking face. Her hair is light brown and tied half up into a knot. She has a mole under one of her eyes. He can tell by the look of her that she is someone who is easily loved.

Aang begins to stutter, wringing his hands together into the folds of his pale red trousers, and the woman giggles at him.

“Well?” she asks, smiling. “You haven’t brought me out here just to talk about _Love amongst the Dragons_ , have you?”

“You…liked the mask I got you right?” he asks, peering at her. He feels shy for no reason he can pinpoint. “The Dark Water Spirit mask?”

The woman lightly slaps his shoulder. “Some people like to just say it is a blue spirit, you know. Blue, because deep down the Dark Water Spirit is sad and jealous that he cannot love like a human can…or a dragon just like the Dragon Emperor he cursed in the play.”

Aang coughs into his hand. “That’s…um…very deep,” he says.

The woman laughs. “And it’s exactly the thing you didn’t bring me out here for,” she teases as she leans into his side. “So, what is it?”

He looks at her, seeing the bright expression on her face. He clears his throat. “Ta Min,” he starts, “Will you marry me?”

There is a sudden shaking on his shoulder. It is the thing that brings Aang out of his odd reverie. He glances around to see Kuzon.

“Are you okay?” Kuzon frowns. “You’ve been staring out into space for so long and the sun is so bright on the horizon that I could’ve sworn your tattoos were glowing! Which…by the way…still haven’t said my congratulations for that! Nice on you for mastering airbending at twelve!”

Aang blinks, and his friend’s face is clearer. Aang is much taller than him now even though Kuzon is a year older. He thinks, for a brief moment, that he is lucky to be friends with someone like him.

Aang grins. “You’re firebending is improving. You’ll catch up,” he remarks. He holds out his hand for Kuzon to hold. “Let’s keep going until that hill over there. Maybe we can catch the best part of the sunset.”

He barely notices Kuzon’s blush as he drags him to a higher point on the beach. As they watch the changing colors of the sky, he tries to forget the strange things he saw just moments before.

He hopes that the visions will stop. Yet, throughout his short visit to the Fire Nation, they become worse. When he sees the uppermost spire of the Fire Lord’s palace, he sees himself breaking through the roof and leaving a faceless man hanging by his robes on a pillar of earth. When he walks down a market street, he sees buildings that are no longer there and imagines what it is like to taste the spicy meat skewers. He knows it is crazy. He has never eaten meat before, but a part of him somehow knows the flavor of turtle duck and komodo chicken.

The people act different than they had before. They give him wary looks that he does not understand, and where children used to flock toward him to ask for his blessings because he is an Air Nomad and therefore good luck, they steer away. He tries not to ponder too hard on it, for he must go home soon. He has the peculiar hallucinations to worry about.

Aang thinks that when he returns to the Southern Air Temple, his visions will lessen. The late spring envelops him, and he is optimistic that the balmy perpetual summer weather of the Fire Nation was the cause. Maybe, he thinks, leaving it behind is for the best.

He lands Appa at the stables and stumbles when another odd image pops up. He is greeting students he never had, waving an arm clad in golden yellow fabric. The students wear Air Nomad acolyte clothing that is looser, less form-fitting than now. They look like a depiction of his people from mosaics hundreds, maybe a thousand, years ago.

He shakes his head, and he is himself again. Aang makes a path for himself toward Gyatso’s quarters, tempted to tell his guardian about the goings-on inside his head. When he reaches there, the door is wide open, and he is warm in an embrace.

“I am happy you are home,” says Gyatso. They pull away, and his countenance shifts from delighted into serious. “You must come with me.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, but Gyatso does not answer.

Aang is led through the halls, away from the chambers, and without even a moment to greet his peers. He recognizes the path with a sinking feeling in his stomach. They are going to the courtyard where the Council of Elders meet.

He is placed in front of the dais on his knees. He is confused when he sees all of them lined up before him. Even Gyatso sits at his place to the right of the leader, High Monk Pasang. He remembers that sometimes, he and his friends snigger about the unibrow that takes up much of Pasang’s face, but now all the frivolity is thrown out the window. He looks intimidating.

Tashi is there too to Pasang’s left. Somehow, he looks just as annoyed as always.

Pasang does not hesitate when he speaks. “Aang, we know that you are not yet sixteen, but we believe it is time you know the truth.” He pauses to study him, then releases a breath. “You are the Avatar.”

Aang is stunned. He stares at them. “How do you know it’s me?” he asks, a slight tremble in his response.

Gyatso bends a current of air under a roll of fabric toward him. It unfurls to reveal four toys: a clay turtle, a wooden hog monkey, a whirligig, and a hand drum. He knows them right away. He picks up the whirligig and tugs on the string until a spinning propeller releases. It spins in front of him and falls on the ground.

“These were some of my favorite toys,” says Aang. He tries to suggest in his tone that whatever they were telling him was a mistake.

“You chose them from among thousands of toys, Aang,” explains Tashi. “The toys you picked were the four Avatar relics. These items belonged to Avatars past. Your own past lives.”

“But—”

It is Gyatso who responds, who looks at him and seems to understand. He is kind when he says the rationale that he needs to convey. “I know you are distressed, young one, and that this is news you may not be ready to hear…but there are troubling signs. Storm clouds are gathering.”

“We fear that war is coming,” adds Pasang.

“We need you, Aang,” says Gyatso. He walks down from his seat and there is some protesting from the other Elders that he ignores. He crouches near to him, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “But you are not alone. You are the Avatar, but that does not mean you are not still in need of a friend.”

He sees what he somehow realizes to be a younger, teenaged Gyatso before him instead of the aging one he is familiar with. The image morphs back and it is just his guardian’s face.

Aang does not know that he has tears welling up in his eyes until Gyatso wipes them away with his thumb. He knows in his heart that what they are saying is true. He can feel it inside himself, in the soul that belongs to hundreds of others before him in a cycle that is never ending.

He is the Avatar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of the AU portion of this story! Please let me know what you think!


	4. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is alone in a temple full of people he has grown up with, and that above all else it what hurts the most.
> 
> He is thankful, at least, that Gyatso had been there to reassure him when the Council of Elders decided to disclose his status as the Avatar. Somehow, that changes things. He knows from their hesitation that Pasang and Tashi disapprove of his time with Gyatso, but Gyatso is not one to sit down and lose. He fights tooth and nail for him.
> 
> “Aang needs to remember to have fun once in a while,” Gyatso says.
> 
> -
> 
> Or, the Southern Air Temple celebrates the revelation of Aang as the Avatar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made from the prompt Dance.

He wants to run away, but he cannot. _Not yet,_ he thinks.

Aang is scared and he is confused. Things start changing as soon as he knows his true identity. The way his peers look at him shifts, like suddenly he is a spirit on top of some great mountain where he resides all his days. Dote sees him and stutters into a bow. Even Yaden appears to defer to him as he passes through the hallways. It befuddles him how such a fundamental transformation can happen in a single night.

He makes a game with a move he calls the Air Scooter. It is the same maneuver he had created when he became a master airbender. It is a sphere of constant rotating air that he balances on like a top. He tries to teach the other kids, but it becomes a chore when they claim it is too hard. Later, they are leaving him out of a game they created with it.

He is alone in a temple full of people he has grown up with, and that above all else it what hurts the most.

He is thankful, at least, that Gyatso had been there to reassure him when the Council of Elders decided to disclose his status as the Avatar. Somehow, that changes things. He knows from their hesitation that Pasang and Tashi disapprove of his time with Gyatso, but Gyatso is not one to sit down and lose. He fights tooth and nail for him.

“Aang needs to remember to have fun once in a while,” Gyatso says to Tashi one day as Aang is tested yet again on an advanced set that involves creating a tornado taller and wider than ten sky bison stacked together. Aang achieves it with ease.

Tashi huffs and puffs and threatens to separate them with the help of Pasang. And Aang, for just a moment, is afraid that it will happen.

High Monk Pasang does not agree with Gyatso, per se, but he is a stickler to tradition. He informs Aang and Gyatso that he will come to a formal decision on whether Aang should complete his advanced training in the spiritual studies of an Air Nomad Avatar at the Eastern Air Temple with Guru Pathik after the celebration of the finding of the Avatar.

‘The Harmony Night’, they call it. For it is the night when the Air Nomads can finally celebrate the return of the one that keeps balance. It is the final night in which the Avatar can belong to their people before they belong to the world.

Aang feels like he walks on eggshells with everyone, stepping carefully on the edges of disappointment in himself and disappointment with the Elders. He does not know what to do.

“It is a joyous day, Aang,” says Gyatso the day of the celebration. “Your smile is all I want to see.”

Aang sighs. His cheek sinks into the palm of his hand as he leans his elbow on the circular Pai Sho table that sits between them. He moves a chrysanthemum tile without looking at it. He does not have much of a strategy in mind for this game. Not this time.

“It is a celebration for one night,” remarks Gyatso. He raises an eyebrow at the tile that Aang has moved and slides a white jade tile into another space. “A celebration that only happens every few hundred years when there is an Air Nomad Avatar. The last time this happened, it was at the home of Avatar Yangchen at the Western Air Temple. This is a night that is for you.”

Aang looks down and frowns. He pushes another tile, this time unsure of what it is because the lines upon it blur. “I don’t want it to be about me,” he says in a quiet tone. “I just…want to be normal again.”

Gyatso looks at him. He sits straighter, drops his shoulders. “You are normal Aang,” he starts, “and this destiny of yours is normal. It is part of who you are, no matter how difficult it feels. I know it is hard now, but there will come a time when you will accept that you are the Avatar, and that being the Avatar is just another part of Aang.”

He glances upward, eyebrows scrunching together. “Did Roku ever feel like he couldn’t be himself?”

Gyatso looks surprised. “I…how did you know I knew Avatar Roku?” he asks. Then, he laughs and shakes his head. “No, I should have known. He is your most recent past life.” He grabs Aang’s hand that rests on the table and squeezes it. “Roku felt like you do in the beginning, but he realized that having people around him that loved and supported him was all he needed to feel like himself.”

They smile at each other, then Gyatso says, “Well, enough of that. Are you ready to dance tonight?”

It is the simplest thing then to grin and nod, to hop from foot to foot and freshen up. As if there are no mishaps and shocking revelations left to upend him.

Gyatso helps Aang prepare. He eases him into formal Air Nomad robes, ones with fabric that is less yellow and more a hue of deep gold. His collar is higher than usual and feels almost suffocating. Gyatso places a necklace of wooden beads around his neck. The trio of spirals that represents his people and his nation are carved into the pendant that hangs from it.

When Gyatso is satisfied, he pats Aang on the shoulder. “Well done,” he says. “Now, we are ready to dance.”

Aang should feel more nervous than he is. He walks into the courtyard outside anxious for the possible pomp and circumstance that comes with his new position. Instead, he receives offers for dances. He is spun all over the floor with laughter and cheer. The boys of the Southern Air Temple make a little jig around him.

Afiko hands out the deserts from the tables that line the walls, and the children are especially happy when he offers them rolls of sugared candies. For a second, Aang thinks he sees Afiko send him a strange look before he bows to a group waiting for his handouts and apologizes because he needs to get more from the kitchens. He hurries around a pillar and disappears.

There are a few visitors from other temples, mostly people that are permitted to be in the know. Namely, other Elders from other Councils from the temples. Some of them are important members in their society, including Yonten who is the knowledge keeper of the Northern Air Temple. He tracks scrolls and cares for the library that resides there. He knows more about anything than anyone else Aang has met.

He is a tall man, rather nimble for his age. He is clean-shaven except for a meager graying patch on his chin. His mastery arrows gleam in the firelight, and his green eyes are unique among the Air Nomads.

Yonten is from the same cohort as Gyatso, and Aang recognizes him from other events and ceremonies he has attended throughout the years. He and Gyatso had been seeing each other since Aang was a young child, and from time to time they make ambassadorial visits to the Earth Kingdom together.

“What are you waiting for, Aang?” asks Yonten in that knowing voice of his. “Are you going to take my hand or what?”

He hesitates. “I…uh…”

It is the middle of summer and Aang is hot. The sweat trickles down his back and soaks his formal robes, but Yonten yanks him forward anyway with a hoot and a holler. There is a steady drum beat that plays. Aang is transferred to Gyatso, and then Tashi, and even Pasang.

Despite the worry that pools in his stomach, he finds himself joyful. Dote teaches him a dance he had learned from a ballroom in Ba Sing Se that he calls a waltz. Aang drags him out nearer to the more wide-open space and demonstrates a Fire Nation dance that Kuzon had taught him called the Phoenix Flight.

The world on the dance floor feels free, graceful. He watches from the sidelines as he takes a break to sip on a cup of refreshing lychee juice. He sees Gyatso and Yonten as they only have eyes for each other, how their hands alight on shoulders and hips, how they move as if they are one.

Aang is still scared and he still wants to run away, but as Gyatso and Yonten bring him into their fold and they are dancing to beats of eight in their own circle. He feels that he can be himself.

He smiles and Gyatso says, “That is the smile I wanted to see.”

Aang dances and sings throughout the night, happy that the music brings color and life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! :)


	5. Temples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang decides he will run away, just for a month or so, a few weeks after the celebrations are over. The dances are finished, the visitors leave. The temple empties and he stands out again amongst his peers. A swaying, obnoxious weed in a plain of grass.
> 
> The end of summer nears, and Pasang has made his decision. He gave him until the start of autumn to prepare, to pack. He has a long journey after all, the High Monk tells Aang. There is too much to do before he separates Aang from Gyatso for good. Before he must go to the Eastern Air Temple.
> 
> -
> 
> Or, Aang struggles with his duties as the Avatar while trouble brews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made for the prompt Air Temples.

Aang decides he will run away, just for a month or so, a few weeks after the celebrations are over. The dances are finished, the visitors leave. The temple empties and he stands out again amongst his peers. A swaying, obnoxious weed in a plain of grass.

The end of summer nears, and Pasang has made his decision. He gave him until the start of autumn to prepare, to pack. He has a long journey after all, the High Monk tells Aang. There is too much to do before he separates Aang from Gyatso for good. Before he must go to the Eastern Air Temple.

Aang is compliant for a time only because he knows he does not want to hurt Gyatso. He stares out the window that he plans on jumping through that night. He has Appa ready in the stables. He will leave and not turn back. Not until they let him live the life he wishes he could return to.

“Sorry you have to do Avatar training, Aang,” Dote told him that afternoon. “The Air Scooter game we made is super fun! Wish you could watch!”

But they never let him play. He is the Avatar now, his friends say. It might end up being unfair. Aang knows he is the same, but he sees the mastery arrows that paint his skin along his chi paths and the lack of them on the others his age. _Maybe_ _they’re right after all,_ he thinks to himself.

Dote is not even his roommate anymore. They give him special quarters reserved for the current incarnation of the Avatar that is built into every air temple. It is beautiful and pristine, cared for with a reverence that only someone who knows the Southern Air Temple as well as their own spirit could.

It makes Aang feel small.

His bare feet pitter-patter upon the dark wooden floor. Walnut, maybe. Aang is not sure. There is a carpet woven together with naturally shed bison wool spun into patterns of Air Nomad whorls. Bright painted orange columns hold the ceiling up in each corner. There are stations for meditative exercises, a reflective pool, and a blank stone surface surrounded by vials of colored sand. He touches the stone from time to time, wondering if he could use the sand to make a sand mandala by himself.

There are memories in this room, ones that flash into his mind like words upon a breeze that carry from the past into the present. A forgotten dream, a distant remembrance that tugs at him.

“A mandala is made of sand because it represents the transience of life,” says a voice he does not recognize. It echoes in his thoughts upon a bell, and he finds himself taller.

Aang looks down to see himself dressed in white furs, a parka dyed in blue covering his arms and torso.

“Kuruk,” says the same voice from behind him. He turns to see a young monk with mastery tattoos that towers over him. His beard is long and reaches past his chest. His robes are clean and there is not a thread out of place. “You must remember that there is more to this lifetime than her. The world needs you.”

Aang squares his shoulders and glares at the man in the eye. “Kelsang, how can the world be in balance if it bows to the will of the spirits? Koh took Ummi! She is a human, not a spirit. How is that fair to her? She’s done nothing wrong!”

Kelsang places a hand on his shoulder and gives him an intense look. “Bend like bamboo in the wind, my friend,” he replies. “You must accept that this happened for you to move on.”

His voice breaks. _“How_ can I accept that she’s gone when it was my fault?”

Aang raises a hand, and then the vision dissipates into nothing. He stands before the mandala stone and gazes onto the untouched surface. He turns away, ready but reluctant to start the rest of his training for the day.

He misses the way Yonten teases him to loosen up, but he must return to the Northern Air Temple. Gyatso remains chipper, but there is a change. Like there is a perpetual ticking, like there is the _drip, drip, drip_ of a melting candle atop a writing desk that never ceases.

He remembers his orders from Pasang last evening. He is to meet him in the spiritual center of the Southern Air Temple, a place he has never been to before. All he knows is that it is a sanctuary, and he does not know what is inside.

Aang paces back and forth before he gathers the courage to leave.

The early evening air is what pushes him forward. The sky is an odd shade, closer to red than midnight blue. He still has a few more hours before he can leave. He will depart when everyone is asleep.

Aang walks through the halls, admiring as if for the first time the elaborate structure of his home. There are twists and turns that he recalls because he grew up exploring them. The mosaics on the walls of some chambers reflect back at him. There are frescoes of sky bison, crenellated columns with lotus flowers carved at the tops. Millenia of history and culture.

“Ah, there you are,” says Pasang. His hands are folded neatly at his front. His dark orange robes are draped around him. He raises his brows and gestures behind him. “The Air Temple Sanctuary,” he informs him.

There is a great door that is the grandest in the whole temple behind him. It is wooden with a straight edge on the bottom and rounded at the top. Three interconnected swirls are in the center, put together by a peculiar mechanism. They look like the ends of tsungi horns.

“Well?” asks Pasang. “Are you going to open it?”

“There’s no key,” he says.

“The key, Aang, is airbending.”

He steadies himself, unsure of what to do other than do what he is told. He raises his arms and moves into a stance. He pushes out and gusts of air burst from his hands into the horns. Each swirl activates and spins around. They make a loud, screeching noise as the wind blows through them.

With a mighty creak, the doors swing open and he is met with a shadowy room that he cannot make out.

“You told me someone was waiting for me inside,” begins Aang with some wariness. “But it’s so dark.”

“You’ll see when you get inside,” Pasang answers.

Aang steps forward, and then someone yells after him. They both whirl around to see both Tashi and Gyatso sprinting toward them.

Tashi speaks first as he reaches them. “High Monk! There is trouble! Come to the Council Chambers immediately!”

Aang glances at Gyatso, and there is a pained look in his eye. He leans over to whisper to Aang, “I’m sorry.” Then he stands and he looks uncharacteristically authoritative. “Avatar Aang, you must come as well,” he says.

Aang tries to understand, but there is too much commotion.

They run and when they make it to the chambers, he is surprised to see Kuzon kneeling there panting on his hands and knees before two members of the Council that had made it there before them.

Kuzon is battered, bruised. His clothes are torn. There are cuts on his arms, and a shredded knapsack hanging limp from his back. Aang wants to rush up to his friend, but Gyatso holds him from doing so.

Pasang sits on the dais, a beaded umbrella shielding him from a moon that is not there. The sky is brighter now, and it does not make any sense.

“A student found him trying to scale one of the nearby mountains,” says Tashi. “He was brought up here on his bison and went looking for Gyatso.” He looks worried, and all the confidence that Tashi exhibits peters out. He sags. “Go on, tell them what you told us.”

Pasang frowns. “Well?” he asks, an urgency in his tone. “What is it?”

Kuzon does not look at Pasang when he responds. He spins around, he looks at Gyatso who stands behind him, and then Aang. There is no time to call for a sense of decorum or even an ounce of respect. There is a glinting fear in his eyes, and Aang thinks that this is the reason why he was not reprimanded.

Kuzon shudders and remains pressed to the ground. There are tears that trickle down his cheeks. “The Fire Nation is coming,” he quakes. “They’re coming to kill all of you. They’re going to all the air temples. They’re looking for the Avatar, and they will use the power of the Great Comet that comes every hundred years…during the Comet Festival. It’s the only time a firebender is so powerful that they can destroy anything.”

The Elders reel back.

“That cannot be true!” shouts one. “The precise locations of the temples are impossible to know without a sky bison, and without an Air Nomad escort.”

But Kuzon is adamant. He turns back toward them, knees scraping the tile. “It is! I heard it from my sister and my father! They’re both important in the Fire Nation military! _Please,_ you have to believe me! The comet is coming today! You have to get out of here or they’ll kill you all!” 

There is a fierce argument that brews, and Aang is caught in the middle of it. He is unsure of what to do, what to say, or even why Kuzon does not question his presence.

There is an explosion. The sky is blood red.

Aang looks up and all thoughts of running away evade him. He sees the Southern Air Temple as it is…the place where his childhood was. The place where his friends live, where the people he knows garden, where the bison and lemurs play tag around the spires on windy days. He could hear the summer chimes clink together even as the atmosphere grows hotter.

He takes the temple into his heart and for a moment he becomes who the world needs.

“We don’t have time to argue,” he states, voice hard. The Elders are silent and so is Kuzon. “This is my first command as your Avatar…we need to escape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think!


	6. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is blood on his hands. Blood soaking through to the pores of his skin, and he cannot scrape away the remnants of it from underneath his fingernails. He is marked now, marked with death and decay that does not leave, does not let him sleep through the night.
> 
> The fire crackles and burns in his memory. A brand that finds him in his nightmares and tramples upon the leftovers of his dreams.
> 
> He can still hear their screams as the comet blazes above them, a brazen streak in the sky that takes and takes and takes.
> 
> -
> 
> Or, Aang has a burden to bear and blood on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made for the prompt Grief.

There is blood on his hands. Blood soaking through to the pores of his skin, and he cannot scrape away the remnants of it from underneath his fingernails. He is marked now, marked with death and decay that does not leave, does not let him sleep through the night.

The fire crackles and burns in his memory. A brand that finds him in his nightmares and tramples upon the leftovers of his dreams.

He can still hear their screams as the comet blazes above them, a brazen streak in the sky that takes and takes and takes. The clouds are swept away, pushed aside as if they are nothing but figments of a past that can no longer exist. He breaks into a present that he does not want, and all he knows is that it must be his fault.

He did this. He did not do enough for them.

“Aang!” he hears his friends call after him. “What’s happening? Where are we going?!”

He knows where they are going, however. He knows where they went. The husks of them still burn behind his eyelids until he can take it no longer.

Dote, Yaden, Jinju. Their faces are stark white against the brightness of the sky. Pasang, Tashi, the other Elders. They call after him to leave the temple, leave them behind.

“You are too important to stay here and help!” yells Pasang in the echoes of his memory. “You are the Avatar, and they are searching for you. You need to live so that the rest of the world can survive!”

A part of Aang knows that he could only do so much. There had been hundreds of Fire Nation soldiers. Too many to count, too many to fend against when his people had no army of their own. An ambush, a travesty to the honor of peace. Now, he knows, there is no peace.

“I can help hold them off!” he shouts, but he was forced backward, and that is what he remembers the most vividly.

He was pushed back even after he helped to plan make an escape. He funnels the children through the caves where the bison sleep, ordering them to jump on them and go anywhere that is not there.

But he sees some of them die right before his eyes. The comet gives the firebenders the power to fly when once it was impossible. Fire blazes from their hands, their feet, and propels them.

He knows that he was only able to get as many children to escape as he did because of Kuzon’s early warning, even if it did come on the throes of the comet’s tail. _At least,_ he tells himself, _the children don’t have their arrows._

They can hide. They can blend into the crowds all over the world if they want to, changing their attire, their looks. They can grow hair; they can keep their heads bald. But he hopes beyond hope that the others know that they should never airbend in front of someone ever again. He does not know if they do.

The comet had blackened the walls of the temple, his home. Blood splattered in gruesome splashes across the rooms. He had run, he recalls. He had run because that was what the Council had told him to do.

“Go with Gyatso and Kuzon!” yelled the Pasang in his memory. “Leave and never come back!”

From there, the recollection becomes vague.

Now, he sits in Chin Village at the southern tip of the Earth Kingdom continent. He and Gyatso had thrown away their Air Nomad robes in favor of scrappy green Earth Kingdom clothing that Kuzon had bought for them from a dilapidated market stall.

He picks at the campfire with the end of a stick. The night envelopes him. They sit beside the roasting fire, listening to stories from a travelling bard well into the wintertime, four months after Aang’s people were attacked. The snow makes a shimmering white sheet on the ground. For some reason, he does not feel the warmth from the flames.

Gyatso is crouched on a log. He hides the burn scar on the side of his head with a headwrap that he now wears everywhere they go. He refuses to grow out his hair, but he insists that Aang does so.

Aang has never known the color of his hair besides the hairs on his eyebrows until he stopped shaving. It is long now, longer than he ever knew it could become. The blackish brown locks brush on the tops of his eyes and ears. He wears gloves to cover the arrows that stand out on the backs of them.

“They say the Avatar was the one to make the Fire Nation run,” the bard marvels, almost as if he is caught in awe. He is a scrawny, diminutive man with bright eyes. “The soldiers that were able to come back from the Southern Air Temple barely returned alive!”

Aang tries to drown out the words. Kuzon presses the warmth of his palm into his. He is a comfort in the cold. Aang tries not to think about the fact that Kuzon had run from home with terrible news to deliver, that he had betrayed his nation for him. That he had made his older sister, Anzu, who he had so beloved when he was younger, believe that he is dead.

The conflagration of the comet took much from both of them all because Aang is who he is and Kuzon believes in justice.

“I’ve heard propaganda that Fire Lord Sozin is trying to spread in Yu Dao,” the bard continues. “He says that the Avatar’s eyes and tattoos glow…that he is a force of destruction and that he is dangerous…he even killed some of his own people!”

The people around them gasp, some even appearing frightened.

Aang does not want to hear any more. He stands. His knees protest with his weight. The crowd does not notice that he moves to the outskirts of the village.

He should have known that Gyatso and Kuzon would, though. They follow him like the loyal family they are. They are all he has left.

Chin is a village that stands at the precipice of the ocean, facing the sea that spreads out into the territory of Kyoshi Island just miles away. He cannot see the dot of land that must be there, but he likes to imagine that there is life on that island. Beyond that, he knows that it is where the Patola Mountain Range is.

The ruins of the Southern Air Temple are there, just weeks away on the back of a flying bison. Even Appa, who likes to be free and out in the skies, hides in the darkness of the forest that encroaches on the village.

“You’re not a killer, Aang,” says Kuzon in a coarse whisper. He has a small smile.

“One day, I promise this grief and loss will all make sense,” adds Gyatso on Aang’s other side. But there is something broken in the way he says it, as if he does not quite believe the statement himself.

The three of them look at the horizon line. The sparkling stars speckle the velvet black that ripples across the heavens. Aang pretends that he sees the faces of those he could not save in each one of them. He pretends that the temples are not empty, that he is not a failure.

He imagines for a moment that he had not run into the air temple sanctuary on some misguided notion that he could save them all. He thinks on what it would be like if he had not stood in front of Avatar Roku’s statue, then Avatar Kyoshi’s, Avatar Kuruk’s, Avatar Yangchen’s…begging them for the power and assistance he could not provide alone.

He does not remember what had happened after that. Only, he woke up and his muscles were ablaze. There were voices inside his head. He was bone tired. Pasang was telling him to move, and there were dead bodies from both the Fire Nation and the Air Nomads strewn about him.

The Great Comet had still wrought out its destruction that day, and he will never forget it.

Aang looks to Gyatso and Kuzon and says, “I don’t know if any of this will ever make sense.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know if you liked (or didn't like) it!


	7. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They need to move on.
> 
> But it is hard, and it is painful. The trek is a messy one, a treacherous one with sharp edges and turns. Aang does not know where to step. He wants to have a soft place to land where he is unafraid of the sudden cracks that form in the cesspool that becomes his life. 
> 
> He is sure that one evening when it is past midnight, that Kuzon tries to tell him something important. He sits on a pile of rocks overlooking a lake, the glassy surface only interrupted by the silvery light of the full moon. It is quiet and it is still, and Kuzon says in a tentative whisper beside him, “I like you.”
> 
> -
> 
> Or, Aang learns to find what he was missing for so long in the people that surround him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give credit where credit is due and just say that Yonten was inspired by a headcanon that OceanMyth said about Gyatso being in love with someone from the Northern Air Temple.
> 
> Also, this last chapter is the longest. It was also very late. 
> 
> This was written for the Love prompt.

They need to move on.

But it is hard, and it is painful. The trek is a messy one, a treacherous one with sharp edges and turns. Aang does not know where to step. He wants to have a soft place to land where he is unafraid of the sudden cracks that form in the cesspool that becomes his life. 

He is sure that one evening when it is past midnight, that Kuzon tries to tell him something important. He sits on a pile of rocks overlooking a lake, the glassy surface only interrupted by the silvery light of the full moon. It is quiet and it is still, and Kuzon says in a tentative whisper beside him, “I like you.”

Aang pretends he does not hear because he is not ready. He does not feel that he deserves it. Instead, he feigns that he falls asleep against the surface he rests on.

He wonders if he is destined for this madness of a turbulent life because he is the Avatar, or because he is Aang. The line blurs only when he realizes that the Fire Nation still searches for him in every Air Nomad they murder that has escaped from the initial attacks. They learn of traps that are set for them in the high places and in the mountains, where deranged generals lay out stolen Air Nomad relics to lure innocents in.

Aang remembers they were almost tempted to go to one once when they were in Chin, until Kuzon heard a rumor that a farmer found dead airbenders collapsed on a foothill that led to it.

The guilt rises from his stomach to this throat and bubbles into nausea. He desperately wants to believe Gyatso and Kuzon when they reassure him that none of it is his fault.

Now, it is spring. More than half a year since the Great Comet—now dubbed ‘Sozin’s Comet’ according to the news from the front—and the Fire Nation destroyed his people and their way of life.

Aang is thirteen and he is still on the run. He does not remember what it is like to have a shaven head, nor what it is like to travel for the sake of traveling. The seasons start to feel like the lingering strands of a dream, start to diminish the rest of his existence like a river eroding a stone until all the lines are smooth.

They live like beggars for months across the Earth Kingdom continent, and do not dare dream of ever returning to any of the air temples. They sing renditions of “Girls from Ba Sing Se” to gather enough coin for their food.

Kuzon goes into the towns most often to gather news and trade, posing as a nonbender as the rest of them did. He eavesdrops on conversations from soldiers coming from the battlefield.

“The Fire Nation is concentrating its forces on the western Earth Kingdom,” reports Kuzon. “We should stay far away from there.”

“We cannot stay in any one place for more than a few days,” adds Gyatso. He stands against a pine tree in a forest of the southeastern Earth Kingdom. He pauses, and Aang can feel his gaze upon him. “But we need a plan. We cannot keep doing this…traveling around as if there is not anything we can do.”

Aang lifts his eyes then, mouth a hard line. He is sick of this lifestyle too, but he does not _know_ if Gyatso is right. “What can we do?” he asks, the question coming out harsher than he intends. He sees Kuzon flinch, but Gyatso remains as steady as ever. “We’re running because they’re looking for us!”

Gyatso stands straighter, his back arcing as he faces Aang fully. “Yes,” he starts carefully, “and we have done our running. However, now we know there are safe places. We know where the Fire Nation cannot go. There are still people to save, young one.”

Aang sees Gyatso as he is: encouraging, and kind, and hurting just as he is. He knows that he is not the only one that has experienced a loss so great in magnitude that he does not know if he will ever recover from it. Yet, he is angry anyway and it is an irrational anger he is incapable of controlling.

He swivels on his toes, kicking up the pollen that makes its way to the grass from the surrounding trees. There is a yellow mist in the air that creates a haze, and everything is sepia.

“Everyone’s _gone!”_ Aang yells because that is all he can bring himself to do. “They’re gone because of me!”

Blue jays from the canopy startle and fly away, flapping their wings until a feather falls at his feet. He pretends to not care that the color of it is beautiful in this sea of muted browns and distorted ends. He does not see the baby’s-breath that stick up from the meadow they are in, swaying in the slight breeze.

Aang feels the way he does because of guilt, and he lets it gnaw at him. He does not know how to stop the destruction from tearing him apart, just that he is no longer the same person he was before the comet came. Before the war started. Before he found out he was the Avatar.

He storms off, but he chooses not to stray far. He sits next to Appa who lets out a soft groan. He is shedding and the leftover fur mingles with the grass.

Aang can hear the worry in Gyatso’s voice as he speaks to Kuzon, ready to come up with a plan even though he himself is not. His guardian sounds distant and far, but Aang can listen to him still. That familiar thrum catches in his ears and for a moment it is a comfort.

The last thing he hears is Gyatso’s words that lull him to sleep. “Omashu is a nearby stronghold. Just over the ridge,” he says to Kuzon who Aang imagines is listening intently. “It might be our only chance for protection. They’ll have access to the Water Tribes. We need to get Aang a waterbending master. We need to stop this war.”

Aang tries not to think what that means for him, but it is a responsibility he has been forced to avoid because of circumstances. It is a duty he does not desire, but he knows that it will come to him eventually.

He lets the sound of Appa breathing at his back overtake him. A breath, another, and the next.

His sleep is blissful and dreamless until he is awakened abruptly. The dawn is a razor-sharp, unwelcome light. A knife that stabs at his vision. Appa growls and stands on all six of his feet. There is a blast of fire that heats the clearing.

A small group of Fire Nation soldiers appear, clad in red and black armor. Their spiked helmets shine in the rays of the rising sun.

Aang rolls into his complete height. Gyatso and Kuzon rush out from somewhere behind him. He tries to let the fear subside, but all he sees is the blood and the burns that the Fire Nation left behind in the Southern Air Temple.

“Halt!” commands a particularly broad-shouldered man. He raises a fist against them. “Ho, there! You’re airbenders, aren’t you? Only airbenders have companionship with a sky bison!” He opens the clenched palm at his side and tufts of cream-colored fur tumble to the ground.

No one has time to protest before they are blasted at with more flame. Aang does not think. He swipes at them with wind and they are shoved back into the copse of trees. A sinking feeling flips his stomach as the three of them hop onto Appa’s back. He has just undone months of work by doing so.

He has revealed them.

“Yip, yip!” Aang screams, flicking the ropes tied to Appa’s curled horns. Gyatso and Kuzon have already scrambled into the saddle.

He can hear the men below holler at them as they ricochet into the sky. He does not look back. He knows they have no choice now. There is only one possible place to go.

Aang maneuvers Appa so that they are in the cover of clouds, and he steers them toward Omashu.

-

They arrive in Omashu with a crash and a bang, and it is only because the guards that patrol the walls know that a flying bison can only belong to an Air Nomad.

At first, they are met with apprehension, and maybe a little awe. The Air Nomads have started to dwindle, to disappear. No one has seen any in a consistent fashion for months. In fact, the war starts not just because the Fire Nation used the first attacks on the Air Nomads, but because the other nations were so appalled that they had done so. Aang knows this now, especially since he has seen the lamenting Earth Kingdom citizens who mourn their long-dead friends from the temples.

The guards back away from them, wary especially because of Kuzon who bears the striking Fire Nation feature of copper-gold eyes. Both Aang and Gyatso raise their hands. Aang produces a small whirlwind in his palm, and Gyatso flashes his shaved head from beneath his headscarf.

There is a sigh of relief, though with a strange look toward Kuzon.

It is not until someone interrupts them that they are totally allowed into the city.

“Aang?” a high-pitched voice rings out. “Is that you? It can’t be…you have hair! And Gyatso?” A pause. _“Kuzon?”_

Aang wants to hug Bumi as soon as he sees him because at least this is something that has not changed. This is something that will remain the same. He appraises his old friend, eyes roaming up and down. Bumi is still around the same height as he is. He still ties his auburn hair up into an impossible chaos that sticks up and defies gravity. He still is missing two of his top front teeth. One of his eyes is in a perpetual twitch, and the other is a lighter green than the one that twitches.

“You look so different!” Bumi exclaims, and he rushes toward them to embrace them himself.

Aang is grateful at that moment because Bumi acts just as he expects him to. He does not comment that they have survived somehow, does not say anything about the people they have lost. Bumi looks at them and tells them only what he sees.

They are all brought into the palace and are greeted by the eccentric Queen of Omashu who Aang believes is responsible for Bumi’s odd behaviors and tastes. She is lanky and all limbs. Her dark hair is pulled all around a feathered crown, and she boasts her questionable fashion choices with mismatched boots.

“Welcome,” she says easily. “Crown Prince Bumi hasn’t been expecting you.”

The statement would have been peculiar either way, but Aang hears the truth in it. He looks to Bumi and sees him stand upright and happy, but Aang remembers a time when he had not been Crown Prince. He remembers when it was Bumi’s older brother, Rohan.

It seems that there are more casualties in the war that Aang does not know.

Appa is taken care of in the stables, and finally bathed and brushed. Aang and Gyatso are given a room to share, and Kuzon another. Kuzon turns in for the evening first.

However, before Aang and Gyatso make their way to their chambers for the first night, they stop dead in the courtyard out back when they spot a familiar face.

Gyatso stumbles and Aang catches him by the crook of his elbow.

Yonten gasps when he sees them, and Gyatso and he run toward each other. Aang is left to collapse on the bench near a spouting fountain in the center.

“How are you here?” cries Gyatso as they embrace. “I thought I would never see you again!” Aang hears the tremble in the way he speaks.

“My younger brother Tsering and I were able to escape because we were on our way back to the Northern Air Temple from Ba Sing Se and we saw what was happening,” sputters Yonten, still swaying and crying. “We helped some of the children leave…the ones that were already on their way out. One of the head monks with them said that no one should go inside, and that the best thing to do for our people was to make sure we left. We...found out later that it was Afiko who betrayed the temple locations...” He looks away. His eyebrows wrinkle together. “I wish I had the courage to return for them that day.”

Gyatso breathes in and his chest heaves in, as if he is trying to control himself. Aang thinks maybe he should look away. It feels so intimate.

“There is another here…Dote? We met him when we were making our way south,” informed Yonten. “I wanted to see if I could find you…both of you.” His emerald gaze lands on Aang. “I almost lost hope.”

Aang leaps to his feet. “Dote?!” he exclaims, and there is elation that is infectious that streams through him like bursts of sunbeams.

For the first time in so long, there is something like hope the flowers through him. It is short-lived and he does not know what it means, but it is there.

The days come and go like quicksand, and the cherry blossoms bloom at the peak of spring. They decide that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and Gyatso informs the queen of Aang’s status as the Avatar.

She smiles as she sits upon her throne and says, “They always say that an Air Nomad brings good luck.”

Aang wants to shirk his duty, wants to not be who they say he is. But he tries to waterbend out of curiosity one day, and he knows without a doubt that he is the Avatar. The water in the courtyard’s fountain shakes and responds to his will, and Aang breathes in to release his hold.

The water splashes into a ripple. He looks into the sunset, his shoulders sagging. He is scared, but he knows this is what needs to happen. He needs to help the world—his people.

Footsteps interrupt him, and he turns slightly to see Kuzon bathed in the glow of the sun as it sinks below the earthen mail chutes unique to Omashu, the sloped green tiled roofs, the marching soldiers that patrol. Pink petals float in the air from the tree that is planted in the corner of the courtyard.

Kuzon stops next to where Aang stands. “Are you ready for this?” he asks, voice low. “To be the Avatar?”

Aang frowns and glances away. “I don’t know if I should be the Avatar,” he replies. “I’ve already let so many people die. How can I hope to fix all of this?”

Kuzon bends so that Aang is forced to look at him. “I know it hurts to hope, and it hurts to care, but that’s all part of us,” he says. “We hope and care because we’re here, and sometimes that’s all we have. You taught me that when you tried your best to save all those kids.”

“But I didn’t try hard enough.”

“I’m sure Dote doesn’t think that,” remarks Kuzon. “You saved him.”

Aang sighs but does not respond.

“You aren’t alone. There’s still people who love you,” continues Kuzon. “People like Gyatso and Bumi…people like me.”

Aang turns to him and finds that they are now side-by-side. The backs of their hands brush. There is a flutter in his heart, his middle. He wants to take it all in, even if it is just for a moment.

“Sometimes all you gotta do is love them back,” finishes Kuzon.

They are looking at each other when their fingers entwine. There is pink and purple in the sky, in the clouds. The light is calm and hides all their tragedies.

Aang learns how to smile again.

He knows that the road ahead is one that he wishes does not need to be traversed. Tomorrow, they will set out on a journey to the Northern Water Tribe in secret as he keeps his identity hidden. He will learn to master waterbending, then earthbending, then firebending. Somehow, someway. He will.

Because peace is worth it, and the people he treasures even more so.

Love comes in zephyrs. It is cold and it is warm. It changes with him. Aang knows that now. Love comes in the laughter from a first meeting, in the family he creates, the cycle of the seasons, the memory of a weaving dance, through the tempered corridors of the air temples, and even through his grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end of this journey! I hope you liked it! Please holler at me in the comments if you enjoyed it and/or leave some kudos!
> 
> Some notes:  
> -Dote is a Tibetan name meaning 'thunderbolt'.  
> -Yonten is a Tibetan name meaning 'knowledge and awareness'.  
> -Tsering is a Tibetan name meaning 'long life'.  
> -Yaden is a Tibetan name referring to 'Neo-Tibetan'.  
> -Bumi's family including the queen and his older brother is a nod to the worldbuilding of another one of my fics based around Kuzon's journey to find Aang when Aang was frozen in the iceberg called "Society". The mention of Kuzon's sister, Anzu, and his father are also a nod to this story.


End file.
